


When I See You Again

by Moonykins



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Blow Jobs, M/M, Stuffing, Weight Gain, chubby jaskier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:34:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23404582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonykins/pseuds/Moonykins
Summary: He knew his increased appetite was due to depression.  The emptiness he felt from having parted ways with Geralt after the dragon incident swallowing him up until he was a shell of the man he used to be.  He knew nothing now but playing for crowds to make money, eating until he nearly busted his gut, and then sleeping off his belly aches.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 197





	When I See You Again

The last chords faded into the noisy room of the tavern he was playing in that night and Jaskier opened his eyes to observe the crowd before him. Many of them did, indeed, toss coins his way. Many others broke into applause. Some looked impressed but did little more than grin. Jaskier would take it. He made a show of bowing exaggeratedly and swept his coin purse from the ground, his lute in his other hand as he headed through the crowd and over to the bar where the inn keeper's wife stood.

“It's a good crowd tonight.” she said, passing Jaskier an ale on the house.

“It is!” the bard chirped, taking a sip to quench his thirst. He put his lute back in its case and took a seat on one of the bar stools. “I'll have the usual, if you've got it.”

The inn keeper's wife (whose name Jaskier kept forgetting, embarrassingly) winked at him and went off to the kitchen to put his order in.

He had been staying in this little town for the better part of six months now, performing nightly at this inn and profiting greatly from it. The coin was good but the food was even better and perhaps that was why Jaskier had decided to stay. The inn keeper's wife could cook like no one else Jaskier had ever known. The moment she met him she had made it her personal quest to fatten him up, insisting that he was skin and bones and he could use a little meat to keep him warm during the winter that had been ahead of them at the time.

Jaskier had just laughed her off, but he wasn't laughing now, not when every meal he ate was prepared by her and his waistline was reaping the benefits of it. No longer did he look lithe or skeletal. Jaskier had filled out over the months until a little pot belly had developed. But it didn't stop there—said pot belly was starting to fill out even more until Jaskier could consider himself decently chubby.

It wasn't that he was that bothered by it either. He knew his increased appetite was due to depression. The emptiness he felt from having parted ways with Geralt after the dragon incident swallowing him up until he was a shell of the man he used to be. He knew nothing now but playing for crowds to make money, eating until he nearly busted his gut, and then sleeping off his belly aches.

It was no way to live his life, he knew. He also knew that deep down he shouldn't be this hurt by Geralt's words. He should be able to brush them off, pick himself up, and keep going. Instead he found that this crippling sadness had settled deep inside his very bones. Nothing sated him except food. It was the only way to fill the void that the Witcher had left behind. At least stuffing himself silly gave him something to do, something to focus on. The weight gain was an after effect that Jaskier was still unsure about.

He had to buy looser clothes somewhere along the line, but it didn't matter that much. He was actually making more coin now that he was staying in a single place and getting his meals with a bit of a break since the inn keeper's wife enjoyed his company so much. It wasn't like he couldn't afford new garments, but it was the fact that he needed to buy a bigger size that bothered him slightly. He noticed the looks he was getting from the villagers who frequented the tavern for a drink on an almost nightly basis. He knew the look that said “He's gotten fat”. It was evident by the fact that men and women had stopped throwing themselves at his feet as of late.

But Jaskier didn't care. He didn't want anyone but Geralt, after all. Who cared what others thought of him? 

So he kept eating.

The inn keeper's wife had just set down his rabbit stew and informed him that his roast chicken and hot bread would be ready in a few minutes. Jaskier pulled the bowl of stew over to himself, picking up the large wooden spoon and scooping up a mouthful. He moaned around the spoon in his mouth and the inn keeper's wife tossed him a wink as thanks for the silent compliment. Jaskier put the spoon back down and licked his lips, wiggling in his seat to try and get more comfortable. The tavern was of a higher class than the ones he was used to, and it even had cushions on some of the seats. Luckily the one Jaskier chose was nice and plush so it gave his back a break from all the standing he had done during his performance. He was very grateful for it, but much more grateful to the soup he was devouring. It was just the right temperature that it didn't burn his tongue if he were to eat it too quickly.

His bread came out next. A whole large loaf. He broke off a piece and dunked it into his soup, soaking it up before popping it into his mouth. The buttery taste of the bread coupled with the savory sweetness of the soup was enough to have his taste buds dancing. He moaned around the next piece, continuing on much as he did the first time until more than half of the loaf was gone.

He had eaten all of the pieces of rabbit and vegetables from the stew, leaving nothing behind but broth. Using the rest of the loaf of bread, he soaked all of it up until the bread was spent. With that through, Jaskier lifted the bowl to his lips and drank down the remainder.

He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and stifled a little burp, feeling slightly full but knowing that his main course was still on its way. In fact, the inn keeper's wife was already bringing over a hefty roast chicken and setting it down in front of him. He said his thanks to her and began picking the bird apart with his fingers, utensils be damned. He had gotten so used to using his fingers over the years he had spent on the road with Geralt.

Hah. There he went again, thinking of the White Wolf.

'Stop that, Jaskier.' he mentally chastised. He took a particularly vicious bite out of his drumstick and huffed out a sigh. 'Don't even go there. Don't think about him. It only leads to heartache.'

Or more belly ache, if he thought about it too much.

Speaking of, his stomach was starting to protest the large meal he was stuffing into it as he devoured the better part of the chicken. It hadn't been a particularly large fowl, but Jaskier would strip it absolutely bare, eating every single bite of meat he could possibly find.

He took a sip of his ale, noticing the inn keeper's wife at the other end of the bar chatting up some other patrons. He was glad that she wasn't paying him that much attention tonight because suddenly he felt he wasn't in the mood for talking. Only eating. Filling up that void inside of himself.

He stripped another piece of meat from his chicken and set aside the second drumstick in a pile of bones collecting in one corner of his dish. He forced himself to stifle another burp into his mug of ale, taking a big gulp and panting when he was through. He was definitely full now, but he wasn't anywhere near done eating. Not with the way he had been eating lately.

So he tucked in again, eating with gusto. He caught the inn keeper's wife saying something about his voracious appetite, but ignored it. He was eating to fill a void inside of himself. If he ate enough, the ache would make him forget about Geralt.

He sniffled around a mouthful of chicken, chewed and swallowed. 

It was around a half hour later that he had finally finished his meal, the chicken picked bare. It stood on the plate as nothing but a pile of bones and Jaskier lounged back in his chair, a hand perched atop of an aching stomach. He felt as if his gut might burst and he knew he needed to get upstairs to rest.

Just as he had been about to get up, the inn keeper's wife came over and dropped off an apple pie for him. “Don't forget your dessert, darling.” she said with a wink. And how could Jaskier pass that up when it smelled and looked so delicious?

Leaving some coin behind, he slung his lute case over his shoulder, picked up his pie, and stood up. Nearly stumbling, he realized that yet again his center of gravity was overthrown due to how stuffed his stomach was. He belched into his hand, face turning more red than it already was as he headed for the stairs. Embarrassingly, he bumped into one of the bar maids since his belly was so extended out in front of him (luckily his pie was unharmed). She gave him a nasty look and continued on her way. Jaskier just apologized and scurried as quickly as he could for the stairs, which were hell to get up. He kept feeling as if he was going to flip over backwards on himself, stomach leading the way and swaying due to its girth.

Eventually he made it, somehow. He waddled his way to his room, unlocking it with the key he kept on himself at all times. Shouldering his way inside, Jaskier set his lute down on the windowsill and finally allowed himself to take a seat on his bed with his pie.

Despite being stuffed to the point of bursting, Jaskier figured he should eat his pie now. He wouldn't want it to get cold, after all. Picking up his fork, he dug in and put the first bite in his mouth. A heavenly moan escaped his lips and his eyes practically rolled back in his skull. Oh! This was the best pie he had ever tasted. How had he gone his entire life without it?

Quickly, he scooped up a second bite. Then a third. And a fourth. He kept going until he was able to see the pie tin beneath. And how generous was it of the inn keeper's wife to give him an entire pie? Really, Jaskier was starting to think she was intentionally trying to fatten him up even more. He was past the point of skin and bones and at last could be considered healthy, yet she was still pushing pastries and tasty treats his way. He was sure he would need to be fitted for more clothing soon if this kept up for much longer.

Balancing the pie tin on his overstuffed belly, Jaskier went to town on it. His breath was coming in uncomfortable gulps and it hurt to expand his lungs too much, meaning that his stomach was far too full, but he kept on eating. It was too delicious to stop!

It was a knock on his door that brought him out of his trance. Lifting his head, he realized what a sight he must make with his stomach sitting in his lap, round and heavy and a pie balanced atop it. He grabbed a blanket and threw it over himself, placing the pie aside before he squeaked out, “Come in!”

The door opened and Jaskier felt his heart plummet into his stomach to join the food he had just stuffed down his gullet. There, in the doorway, stood none other than Geralt of Rivia, a sheepish expression on his face like he was expecting Jaskier to start shouting at him to get out at any moment. Jaskier opened his mouth to do just that, but Geralt beat him to the punch.

“Jaskier, wait.”

“Why should I, Geralt?!” Jaskier snapped, and if he hadn't been pinned down by his own weight, he probably would have jumped up and pushed Geralt from the room. As it was, the Witcher took another step inside and shut the door behind himself, approaching the bed.

“Just listen to what I have to say.” There was a pleading tone in Geralt's voice, one that Jaskier couldn't rightly say he had ever heard before. 

Jaskier crossed his arms over his chest, reminding himself that he was indeed stuffed like a pig right now and that Geralt was bound to see if he made even the tiniest mistake. He kept stark still. “Go on. Let's hear it.”

“I'm sorry.” Geralt paused then as if he had forgotten his words completely, looking like he was floundering.

“That's a start.” Jaskier said with a laugh. And oh, laughing hurt a lot right now. There wasn't enough room for his lungs to expand to allow for it. “But I've decided not to forgive you. Now leave.”

“Jaskier--”

“Geralt,” the bard snapped, tears springing to his eyes. “Do you realize how you've hurt me? Do you? Because I don't think you do!” His voice was rising in volume and he was so afraid of letting his emotions take control. If Geralt found out how he truly felt, would he leave him for good? Jaskier was convinced he would.

“I do! Because it hurt me too!” Geralt took another few steps forward, bending down to sit on the bed beside Jaskier, making the bard scurry back against the headboard even more. “I...I care for you, Jaskier.” It was but a mere whisper, something Jaskier wouldn't have heard if he hadn't been so close to Geralt.

Jaskier just growled. “You don't even know what those words mean, Geralt! If you cared you wouldn't have said those hurtful things on that mountain top. If you cared you would have started searching for me the moment we parted! You wouldn't have waited eight whole months!”

“Well, you made yourself pretty difficult to track down.” Geralt countered. “I started looking the moment I lost sight of you, but you were always a step ahead.”

Jaskier just kept glaring, keeping deathly silent.

“I care about you,” Geralt tried again. “I...I didn't realize how much until you were gone.”

A sigh escaped Jaskier's lips and he looked up into those golden eyes he thought he would never see again. “What does that even mean, Geralt?”

“It means,” Geralt was floundering once again, his words escaping him. “Oh, fuck it.” He lunged forward, taking Jaskier's face in his hands and bringing their lips together.

Jaskier was so shocked that he gasped, but Geralt kept him in place, kissing him like he had never been kissed before, pouring all of himself into it. Jaskier's heart was beating a tattoo against his chest and threatening to escape if he wasn't careful, but he ignored it in favor of tasting Geralt. Becoming braver, he licked his way into the Witcher's mouth, moaning and reaching out to pull Geralt closer.

Only then did he realize his mistake. Geralt was on top of him, his strong chest and sculpted stomach pressed into Jaskier's own squishier, rounded one. Geralt pulled back, a questioning look in his eyes, before he looked down. The blanket around Jaskier had slipped, revealing his rock hard stomach, pushing against the confines of his doublet and begging to be set free.

Geralt only looked for a moment before diving in for another kiss. Jaskier's brow knit together in confusion. Why did Geralt still wish to kiss him even though he had seen what Jaskier had become? Why hadn't he turned tail and ran? Why was he still here, kissing the life out of Jaskier as he had in all of his most precious dreams? He needed to know.

Pulling back, Jaskier looked into Geralt's eyes. “Why are you still here?”

This time, it was Geralt who was confused. He looked like a puppy dog that had been denied a treat. “I thought I made myself clear--”

“No, Geralt. I mean why are you still here after...a-after seeing this?” Jaskier gestured to his stomach, a blush spreading across his now fuller cheeks. “I-I've gotten fat. I thought you wouldn't want to be around me if...if...”

Geralt had the nerve to grin and laugh softly. “Only you would be that vain, Jaskier.” He pulled the bard in for another sweet kiss, licking his way inside his mouth and groaning when their bodies pressed together once more. That was when Jaskier realized that Geralt was hard. Actually hard, even though they were doing nothing more than kissing and pressing against each other. 

Not only that, but Geralt's large hands were on Jaskier's stomach, kneading at the fat that resided there and making Jaskier gasp and blush even further. The bard wriggled in place and pulled back once more to catch his breath, a smile on his lips. Geralt's hands didn't move and Jaskier gave him a knowing look. Had he just stumbled upon a hidden desire of Geralt's?

“Are you going to finish your pie?” Geralt asked, heat rising to his face and his eyes looking anywhere but at Jaskier.

Jaskier smirked knowingly and twirled a lock of Geralt's white hair around his fingers. “Why? Do you wish to feed it to me?”

Geralt's head snapped up so quickly that there was an audible noise. He groaned deep in his throat and scurried to pick up the pie tin.

Jaskier made a show of getting comfortable once more, putting his hands on his stomach and rubbing as Geralt fed him the first bite. More than half the pie was already gone, but there was still a generous helping left behind.

Geralt fed him slowly at first, as if he were afraid that Jaskier couldn't take it. Once he realized that Jaskier was indeed not going to explode, he scooped up larger forkfuls and fed him more frequently. Jaskier made sure to moan around each mouthful, rubbing his belly and groaning exaggeratedly. Geralt kept casting him looks and asking if he was alright for more, to which Jaskier always replied “Yes. Feed me more, Geralt.”

A hiccup tore its way from Jaskier's throat, surprising them both and making Jaskier's stomach bounce in his lap. “O-Oooh. That one h-hu—hic—hurt.”

“Do you want to stop?” Geralt asked, concern lacing his voice.

Jaskier just shook his head and opened his mouth once again for another bite, which Geralt fed him apprehensively.

The hiccups didn't die down until the pie was all gone and Jaskier was cradling his stomach in his hands, back bowed, licking his lips and panting heavily. His eyes were half lidded as if he had just had sex, glazed over with arousal at how fat and full he was. His face was red, flushed with both arousal and exertion. His lips looked thoroughly kissed while also appearing sticky and sweet with the apples from the pie. Geralt leaned in to kiss them once more, pulling another hiccup from Jaskier.

“Here. Let me help.”

At first Jaskier had no idea what Geralt was referring to. Then he felt those large hands on his stomach, peeling his doublet off and helping him work it over his head. He took his undershirt off as well, exposing Jaskier's bloated tummy to the world. Jaskier blinked down at it, still fighting to breathe properly. His stomach was like a globe, fat and rounded in front of him, sitting happy and heavy in his lap. It wobbled when he so much as breathed. It was positively round and didn't appear to be able to fit anything else inside.

Geralt began to rub him then, placing first one hand on the crest of his belly and then the other, closer to one of his sides. “Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with Jaskier's stomach rather than his face.

“A-Aches. Yes.” Jaskier hiccuped again, making his belly bounce once more.

Geralt shifted on the bed and Jaskier could just tell he was turned on. He wished he could do something more about it than just sit here an be eye candy for his Witcher. But unfortunately he didn't feel like he could move very well right now. So he allowed Geralt to rub him until one of his hands came away and began undoing his own pants. He pulled himself out and Jaskier had a chance to admire his impressive length and girth. Geralt stroked himself as he rubbed at Jaskier's stomach, finger dipping into Jaskier's deep belly button.

When that didn't seem to be enough for him, Geralt got down on his hands and knees, forgoing rubbing to instead shower Jaskier's stomach with kisses, making the bard gasp aloud.

“O-Oh! G-Geralt. Yes!”

Geralt nipped at the skin near the side of Jaskier's belly where it was most lax and bit down on it with his teeth. That earned a happy little yip from Jaskier whose breath left him in a rush. Geralt hung onto him, like a wild animal biting its prey, and sucked a bruising hickey into his flesh. Jaskier could do nothing more than tip his head back and moan, fisting the bed sheets below him.

The sound of Geralt jerking himself off caught his attention and when he next opened his eyes, the Witcher was painting his belly in ribbons of his cum.

“Oh, gods! G-Geralt!”

Jaskier's name fell from the Witcher's lips and Geralt surged forward once more, kissing Jaskier fiercely before working at the laces of his pants. He pulled off the remaining garments from Jaskier's body, freeing his cock which sprang from its prison and stood at attention. Geralt took Jaskier in his hand, sinking down between his plush thighs, golden eyes locked on the bard's face as he slowly kissed the head of his erection and took it into his mouth.

He sucked him off dutifully, keeping his hands attached to Jaskier's stomach, rubbing at its sides to help him digest. Jaskier had to admit that it was working but it was also making him feel rather sleepy. He figured he could at least hold off until Geralt was done with him, however.

Geralt's tongue licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, pressing against the vein that resided there. He took it in even deeper, swallowing around it and finally closing his eyes to bob his head this way and that. It wasn't long before Jaskier was cumming down Geralt's throat.

The Witcher took it all in and finally pulled away, kissing each of Jaskier's plush thighs before making his way up to Jaskier's stomach where he licked up the cum that had puddled around his naval. Jaskier was thankful for the clean up because he felt he couldn't even move his arms at that moment. His eyes had fallen shut and he was breathing so heavily he felt he may never catch his breath.

Geralt climbed up the bed and pulled Jaskier into his arms. “Sleep, little song bird.” he whispered, dropping a kiss to Jaskier's forehead.

“Mm...I like that.” Jaskier mumbled into Geralt's chest as the two of them lay down together. “Just...keep rubbing my belly...while I sleep.”

“Hm.”

Geralt did just that and Jaskier drifted into the first dreamless sleep he had in months, safe in his lover's arms and sated from all the good food he had eaten that day.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at http://carrottheluvmachine.tumblr.com
> 
> My inbox is always open!


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